***

“Wow, this place is it,” Missy commented as she took in the interior of the club, shaking her big mane of red to and fro. “But you know, Jackie, I hate you. You should have let us go home and change before coming here. I’m in my street clothes, you know?”

Jackie laughed as he took both Missy and Otis by the shoulders. “Otis told me you’re not into carpet munching. And the guys here won’t have eyes for you. So why does it matter what you’re wearing? By the way, girl, you’re fine as frog’s hair.”

“Eww, shut up,” Missy protested. “Is that how you gay dudes compliment a woman?”

“Frogs don’t have hair,” Otis contributed to the conversation in his own way.

“Hey, that’s an expression I learned from my mum,” Jackie protested. “And it is a compliment, so you two stop splitting hairs.”

“A frog’s hairs?” Otis inquired politely, although he knew for a fact that frogs really didn’t have any hair whatsoever.

Jackie squeezed his shoulder. “You’re so funny, Otis, I swear. I’ve never met anyone like you. Now, you two go up to the bar, while I’m doing the rounds for a moment. Oh, and tell the man it’s all on my tab. Go crazy.”

Otis followed Missy dutifully to the bar that looked so pretty with all those beautiful bottles lining the wall behind a tall man mixing a drink in a tall glass that he felt rightfully intimidated. The barman was impressive, not only in height, but in how muscular his upper body was. He had a green Mohawk and studs in both ears. All in all, he looked like someone from a movie set.

Otis watched Missy as she hiked herself up on a chair and did the same. When Missy placed her hands on the bar, crossing them slightly, he mimicked the move to the letter.

“Twins?” the barman asked as he finally turned his eyes on them. He appeared to stare at Otis more.

He was in a new place, so he had covered his eye so that no one felt offended by it. Not everyone was like Hudson, who thought he was beautiful regardless of his asymmetric eyes, or Mr. Smith, who cared about him not losing his eyesight.

Missy scoffed. “Thanks for the thought, but unfortunately, I didn’t share a womb with this gorgeous boy right here.” For reasons Otis couldn’t figure out, she nudged him in the ribs. Ah, she probably was making him pay attention to the proper etiquette.

Since the barman hadn’t talked to him directly, he opted for the tried and tested. “Good evening, sir. May we have a glass?”

The barman smirked and put down the drink he had been mixing. It appeared that it was early and not many customers were crowding the bar at the moment. “Hi, gorgeous boy,” he drawled while placing his elbows on the bar and leaning forward. From up close, Otis noticed that he was wearing contacts, a mesmerizing type that reflected the lights of the club in kaleidoscopic patterns. “Call me Utah. Not ‘sir’.”

“Utah, like the state? Is that where you’re from?” Otis asked, surprised by such an unusual name.

“No. It’s just what I was born again as,” Utah said and winked at him. “Your glass, gorgeous, what should it contain?”

It was normal for someone in the customer service business to talk like that to their patrons. It was conducive to good tips, Missy had assured him, so Otis made a point to notice when the regulars at their restaurant were wearing new clothes or had their hair done, especially the ladies.

Utah’s question, however, left him a bit dumbfounded. He turned toward Missy, needing help. “What should we have?”

“I don’t know about you,” Missy said and slammed her small hand on the bar, “but I’m in the mood for a dirty Manhattan. Oh, and put it on Jackie’s tab. We’re with him,” she added and grinned at the bartender.

Utah rolled his eyes. “That guy, I swear.” He shook his head. “And you, sweetheart?” he asked, turning toward Otis. “What would you like?” Then, in a low whisper. “The sky’s the limit. Order the most expensive stuff. I love watching Jackie sweat.”

Otis had absolutely no clue why Jackie would sweat over his choice of beverage, but he felt it would be impolite to ask for something expensive only because there was someone else paying. He communicated his point of view right away. “What is the least expensive?”

Utah made an incredulous face. “That would be water. It’s free.”

Otis nodded enthusiastically. “Then I will have a glass of water.”

Utah stared at him in disbelief. Then, he turned his head toward Missy. “Is he for real or just pulling my leg?”

“He’s the real deal,” Missy confirmed. “Salt of the earth, our boy. He wouldn’t take a dime he didn’t earn.”

“Wow,” Utah said and looked at Otis again. “And people say miracles don’t happen anymore. What’s your name, sugar?”

“Otis.”

“Cool beans. You know what, Otis? I’ll bring you a Cosmo. And it’s on me, not Jackie.”

“But--” Otis started to argue, but Utah wagged a finger at him in warning.

It looked like he couldn’t say ‘no’ to that. He very rarely drank alcohol. It was only one drink, though. He wouldn’t get drunk or anything.

***

“I believe you’ve seen enough of the show to understand what kind of entertainment we’re selling here,” Watkins offered in a confident voice and touched Hudson’s forearm. “Now, I will refer you to one of our employees so that he can show you what kind of work we have in mind for you.”

Hudson didn’t like being placed in the care of a subordinate, but, at the same time, that was an opportunity. If he happened upon a blabbermouth, it was all for the better, unless, of course, Watkins had in mind that taciturn bouncer who had frisked him earlier.

They were back in the corridor now, although Hudson had a hard time stomaching the fact that he was leaving Jasper there, paying a lot more for what he was earning than he should. Only for the time being, he promised himself. He needed to keep close to the place now more than ever, while still keeping an ear to the ground, in case he was on the wrong track. There were many things to tackle, but he had always been good at keeping a cool head while multitasking.

***

They were now in an anteroom that held a secretarial desk, a vertical file cabinet with two drawers, and huge potted plants in the corners. Watkins walked over to the cabinet and pulled out something. He threw the folder on the desk and reached for a pen inside his suit. “Before we proceed any farther, Mr. Vegas, I need you to sign an NDA.”

“Sure,” Hudson said with a shrug.

“Sign it with your real name,” Watkins reminded him. “As fortuitous as Vegas sounds as a name in this business, I don’t assume that’s what it says on your driver’s license.”

“You’re right, and of course, I’ll use my real name.” John Adam was about to sign an NDA with the devil, or at least one of his acolytes. Just a normal day at the office. His fake ID was ironclad.

“And now,” Watkins said as he put his pen back and closed the folder after Hudson signed on the dotted line, “let me introduce you to your role in our lucrative business. You’ll be our photographer, since we need to promote our business, as they say, in a more artistic fashion. These are the times we live in,” he added with a shrug.

No one had asked him if he wanted said role, and Watkins had behaved as if it were a done deal. He didn’t mind; the idea was for him to turn into a dutiful minion so that he could ascend through the ranks. It was also easier to be in touch with gossip on dark matters if he was closer to that world, in case Watkins was just a shady live porn peddler and not much else. Somehow, he doubted it. Fresh businesses usually looked forward to expand, and that meant hiring every piece of shit willing to get their hands dirty.

As if on cue, as soon as Watkins finished talking there was a loud knock on the same door through which they had walked just earlier. “Come in,” Watkins called out.

Hudson turned to see a young man in his twenties, wearing a black suit and a knowing smirk on his face. He was attractive in a boyish way, and maybe his thug career, which appeared to be in store for him, was only in its freshest years.

“Did you want me, boss?” the youngster asked while eyeing Hudson shamelessly.

Hudson had seen that look plenty of times. So, Watkins hired guys with the same inclinations as the clientele. Was that good for business? That was one point to ponder over.

“Jackie, this is Mr. Vegas,” Watkins said shortly. “He’s here to take pictures of our highest sellers. You’ll take him to the red room.”

Jackie seemed really interested in the new Mr. Vegas’s addition to the family. He took Hudson’s hand, although he hadn’t offered it, and shook it vigorously. “We have the best models here, Mr. Vegas,” he said. “Come on, I’ll show you everything.”

Hudson shrugged and followed.

“We’ll discuss your remuneration after we see the first sets of pictures,” Watkins told him on his way out.

“No problem,” Hudson said airily and followed Jackie into the hallway.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Jackie talked quickly and gesticulated. “The pay here is absolutely awesome.” He kissed his fingers with a loud smack. “And, you know, the boys are also top notch. I’ve had a few of them, and damn, they’re worth every penny they earn here, if you know what I mean.”

Obviously, Jackie thought he was made of the same stuff as the rest, and it didn’t matter to him that Hudson wasn’t replying to his chatter with the same enthusiasm. “Are there many boys here?” he asked.

“Around twenty, give or take. But they come and go, you know?” Jackie offered.

“Really? Where do they go?”

Jackie shrugged. “As they say in other businesses of this kind, they graduate.”

Gut instinct. They didn’t call it that for nothing, because Hudson felt the snake in his abdomen coiling tighter. “What does that mean?”

“You know. They take a bunch of money and go and spend it on vacations and shit. It’s not like they can work here forever.”

They liked them young… was that what Jackie was trying to tell him? Hudson painted his face with a leering smile and leaned toward his companion. “Do you mean, they’re, you know, young?”

Jackie stared at him, and Hudson wondered if he hadn’t overstepped and taken the young man for a fool too quickly. “Eighteen is the gold standard now,” he explained. “Hey, you don’t have to worry, man. What we do here, it’s all above board. I know, because I did that kind of work for a while. Then, they promoted me,” he said with pride and straightened his back.

“Do you mean, that kind of work?” Hudson gestured vaguely.

“Yeah, I stripped, I sucked, I fucked,” Jackie continued to brag. “But I was already twenty-four when I got here. Not young and pretty enough, not big enough to be one of the bulls. Don’t feel bad for me, man. I get to fuck the most gorgeous guys in the house. Now, let’s put you to work, ‘cause the boys are waiting for you.” Hudson nodded as Jackie held a door open for him. “You don’t mind if I leave you to your thing, right?” he added. “I’ll come back in half an hour.”

“No, not at all.” That was actually for the better, Hudson thought before stepping inside.

TBC